Page 2 of Shades of Mercy
Howie looked her up and down. “You’ll fit in.”
“Good.”
“Who knew you had sexy party girl in you underneath all that librarian facade?” He popped up a brow.
“These shoes feel... strange. Let’s hope I don’t break my neck.” She adjusted the straps on the high heels that looked more like weapons. “Pray. Let’s hope Mateo doesn’t break my neck when he discovers that you’ve put yourself in danger.”
“Relax. No one is going to face a broken neck. By the time my brother finds out what I’ve done, he’ll have all the details he needs to put Cross behind bars where he belongs.” “Remember the plan and stay on track. Get in there, get the pictures, and get out,” Howie said firmly. He took a drink of his coffee and spilled it down the front of his shirt. “Shit!” He jumped up from his chair.
Mercy grabbed a roll of paper towels and handed them to her partner. “I don’t know who’s more nervous — you or me,” she teased.
He clumsily wiped at the stain. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Let’s not get mushy.” She winked. “Stay in contact with McKinley and keep our drone up, just in case we need it.”
“You can count on me,” he assured her.
She grabbed her dainty black purse, checked to ensure the invitation was tucked inside, and the camera was hidden in the secret pouch, then dragged it over her shoulder. “You did an amazing job with the invitation. No one will have a clue that it’s fake.”
“I can be handy at times,” he said, blowing on his knuckles and swiping them down his shirt.
“See you on the flipside.” Mercy slipped out of the mobile unit and glanced around the parking lot of the closed Chinese restaurant. It was a warm, balmy evening, and she appreciated the way her dress exposed her skin. Sweat would not be a welcome effect.
Usual on a lively Saturday on the strip, businesses were in full swing in the brewery district. Patrons and their banter overflowed outside of crowded bars onto the sidewalks. Mercy gained attention as she pushed her way through the throngs of people. She wasn’t used to receiving this much attention and had to remind herself to keep her appearance easy and sexy. Just be a girl out enjoying the evening.
She rounded a corner, entering the artsy district where it was more subdued. The entire row of buildings was owned by Cross, who rented them out to business owners, earning the street the nickname “Cross Row.”
Although she couldn’t see or hear the drone, she knew it was above her, and she should be in view by now.
A neon sign buzzing above heavy metal double doors alerted her that she’d reachedthe club, aptly named Power House. From the sidewalk, one might assume the club was empty because the outside appeared just like many of the other businesses at this time of night: closed.
There were no cars in sight because clients were dropped off at the entrance, and the girls discreetly entered at the back door.
She knocked twice, following the instructions on the invitation, and the door swung open, revealing a doorman who towered above Mercy and looked as if he were about to burst a seam on his too-tight suit.
She flashed her invitation, and he nodded, stepping back to let her enter.
As she stepped through another set of doors, she was welcomed by a quartet playing instruments. The atmosphere was like high society, sin, and debauchery.
The gatherings served purposes beyond leisure and enjoyment. Numerous deals were struck, alliances established, and decisions made at these events, which were primarily attended by men in elegant suits, wearing elite watches, and custom-made shoes. Young women, dressed in revealing gowns, flowed elegantly through the rooms, lavishly decorated with lit candles, tables overflowing with gourmet food, and mini bars.
Inside one room, a row of tycoons sat on an L-shaped sofa, flanked by beautiful women, while exotic dancers danced on tables.
In another room, women were lying on tables and their bodies were being used as sushi bars.
The party felt like a playground for indulging the wealthy and reinforcing their powerful statuses.
Mercy accepted a flute of champagne, eager to blend in as best as she could. Someone grabbed her arm, and she looked up—way up—to a man with slicked-back hair and striking features. He offered her acharmingsmile. “You’re new to these parties.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I would have remembered you.”
She sipped the champagne, allowing her time to think about how she’d respond. “This is my first. I hear they’re amazing.”
One groomed brow flicked up. “Have you met anyone?”
Mercy had a feeling that was code, asking if she’d been chosen to entertain anyone for the night, but before she could answer, a tall, beautiful blonde in a glittery rose-gold dress swept in and hooked her hand possessively around the tycoon's elbow.
